


Wishful Thinking

by yogio



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon verse, F/F, takes place before erens paths intercom announcement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yogio/pseuds/yogio
Summary: Alone and desperate, Historia does the only thing she's ever been able to do without trying: talk to Ymir.
Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss & Ymir, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Wishful Thinking

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so, in all the years I've been writing, this is literally my first time writing in first person. I did my best to make it work and sound in character, so please be forgiving if it isn't perfect lmao. 
> 
> Anyway, I, like many of you, am on the brink of insanity due to my rage at the lack of Historia in the manga currently. Despite being one of the most fascinating, well written, complex, and straight up best characters, it seems like she's been completely tossed to the wayside and forgotten completely. Since I'm so desperate for her point of view and not getting it, I decided to write it my damn self.
> 
> I hope you like it, positive comments and constructive criticism are both welcome and encouraged! :)

~~My beloved Ymir,~~

~~Ymir, the human,~~

The _only_ Ymir that has ever mattered,

It’s been such a long time since we’ve spoken, hasn’t it? I’m not sure I even know _how_ to speak to you, with how blurry our all conversations are in my head.

...

I’m sorry, I lied. The truth is, I remember every word you've ever said to me so clearly it hurts. I see your face and hear your voice in my mind like it was yesterday. 

I’m in a chair on the front porch of my cottage as I write this. I spend most of my time here; it’s not like there’s anywhere else to go. At least here, the sun and the birds keep me company. I can’t even remember the last time I had a real conversation, and I feel like I’m going stir crazy. The only company I have is - forgive me - the father of my child. Despite the fact that he’s the only one around me, you might be relieved to know that I think I’m beginning to hate him. 

I know he has good intentions, but sometimes he reminds me of my childhood, when he would throw rocks at the little girl who couldn’t do anything to help herself. That’s how I feel now. Helpless. Pathetic. 

I wish someone would throw a rock at me. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so completely numb. 

Until I was exiled to this cottage, I heard your name every day. _“Ymir the founder.” “Subjects of Ymir.”_ People always said your name, but they were never talking about _you._ I swear, every time I heard someone describing my damned ancestor and speaking her name, every time _I_ had to speak her name, it was like the prick of a needle. Have you ever been pricked with a needle a hundred times in an hour long meeting? Trust me, it’s not pleasant. 

Then again, I think I’d prefer meetings to this. 

Would you be shocked if I said I missed being Krista? I never imagined I would. Krista was a stifling mask and caused constant anxiety, but at the very least, Krista _felt_ something. Krista wasn’t trapped the way I am. I didn’t even realize the freedom I had at that time, and it breaks my heart to think about it. I remember having fun, feeling joy; even if so much of it was fake, not all of it was. I meant it when I smiled and laughed with you. I loved it when we went on training missions together. Even with some of our comrades, I felt happy. Sasha made me happy when she called me her friend. Annie made me happy when she helped me with combat training. Mikasa made me happy when I felt I had something in common with her. Even if they all thought I was someone else, it meant something to me, despite the fact that I had to hide behind Krista.

Then again, I was never Krista with you, was I? You never saw her, not even once. You saw the real me from the first day we met, everything but my name. 

Everyone knows my name now, but no one knows _me_. 

It’s infuriating to be ignorant. When I was actually functioning as queen, I knew every detail of every event that was happening in these walls. I made it a point to always be aware of what was happening to my people, and to act on every issue the moment it reared its head.

Now, I don’t have a single clue as to what’s happening outside this tiny cottage. The world could be ending, and I’d be none the wiser. My friends could be dead, and I wouldn't even be able mourn them, because I'd have no idea. 

When I say not much has been happening, I mean it in the worst possible way. I do _nothing_ anymore. I wake up. I eat when I’m told, even though I’m never hungry. I sit and watch the sun rise and set, and I imagine I’m someone else. Anyone else. 

I’d like to apologize for that. You always wanted me to be true to myself, and live for myself, the way I wanted. It’s clearly not what I’m doing now, is it? 

I can’t stand carrying this child. I hate the feeling of something growing in me when I know it’s only being born so that it can be doomed. I hate the feeling of something growing in me at all; maybe I wouldn’t if the situation was different. I don’t think I’d mind it at all if we found a sorcerer or witch to let me carry _your_ baby. 

Sorry. That was weird. My head isn’t completely right these days, if you can’t tell. 

I don’t think I can express what it’s like to sit here, day after day, useless and isolated. It’s like I’m on the farm from my childhood all over again. 

Then again, I don’t even have horses for friends anymore. 

You probably have no idea what I’m talking about when I mention living on a farm. I never got to tell you about my past, and that fact is one of the things I regret most. It’s not fair that you hardly had any regrets while I have to live with so many. 

I’m sure it doesn’t need saying, but I miss you. I miss you telling me we’d get married. I miss you holding me at night when I was cold or had bad dreams. I miss you yelling at me and calling me an idiot when I did something dangerous. I miss you being so, so careful with me when I was injured while you tried to hide how much it scared you to see me hurt. 

I miss you so much it tortures every part of me, and sometimes I feel like I can’t even breathe. 

I’ve missed you since the day you left, but at the very least, I was busy, you know? I had a kingdom to run, people to protect, countless obligations. Now, you’re all I think about, and it’s more painful than you can imagine. 

The worst part - aside from not having you - is the fact that I feel less like myself than I ever have. Even when I had a completely fake personality to cover my flaws, parts of me were still there. I had lost sight of who I was, yes, but at least I had something to define me. 

But now…Now, I don’t even recognize myself. I’ve never felt this empty, Ymir. I wonder if _you_ would even recognize me. Would you recognize the vacant shell of the girl you wanted to marry? 

I love you, Ymir. I haven’t stopped loving you for a single moment, and I promise, I never will. The fact that I never got to tell you this will haunt me until I die. 

You’d be furious to know that the day I die might just be a few years away. At least I’ll get to see you again. Maybe I’ll finally know what it’s like to kiss you. I’ve dreamt about it so much, sometimes I feel like I already have. 

I hope you can wait for me, and that you won’t be too angry with me for all of this. Even if you are, I’ll understand.

With more love than you could possibly imagine,

Your Historia. Always yours. 

* * *

Historia sighed and stood up after the sky went dark, walking inside with her letter in hand. The father of her child stood in the kitchen with a nervous smile, but she brushed right past him to the fireplace.

“Historia?” He said, “Dinner is ready, you should come eat.”

“I’ll just be a moment,” she said, her voice monotone. She didn’t care enough to fake any emotions in her words.

She folded the letter carefully and gently pressed it to her lips, muttering a promise of love that she never got the chance to say when Ymir was alive. She placed the letter carefully in the fire, barely avoiding burning herself. Not that she would care if she did. 

“I’ll see you someday,” she murmured as she watched the paper disintegrate into ashes, the smoke rising out of the chimney and into the sky. 

“But I won’t give up yet.”


End file.
